The Herring King

Anna Ihrén The Herring King Translated from Swedish by Emma Ericson SAGA Egmont The Herring King Translated by Emma Ericson Original title: Sillbaronen Original language: Swedish Copyright ©2017, 2023 Anna Ihrén and SAGA Egmont All rights reserved ISBN: 9788726907353 1st ebook edition Format: EPUB 3.0 No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrievial system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor, be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. www.sagaegmont.com Saga is a subsidiary of Egmont. Egmont is Denmark’s largest media company and fully owned by the Egmont Foundation, which donates almost 13,4 million euros annually to children in difficult circumstances. Thank you! My darlings Dan-Robert, Tim & Bella. JAMES BLAKE The Herring King AMANDA BLAKE Wife JAMES BLAKE JR Son MARY BLAKE Wife CHARLES BLAKE Grandson KATE (CATHERINE) BLAKE Wife CHRISTIAN BLAKE Great-grandson ANGELIKA BLAKE Wife HUGO BLAKE Great-great-grandson BELLE BLAKE Great-great-granddaughter THE APPROACHING FOOTSTEPS ECHOED AGAINST THE STONE FLOOR of the corridor. If he didn’t get up quickly, his skinny and already bruised legs would be hit by the broom handle – hard. He ran his hand over his buttocks and the back of his thighs. The rattan whip had left deep cuts across his thin skin. He listened. Tensed his whole body. There was nowhere to run. Tears burned behind his eyelids, but his eyes stayed dry, as if there were no more tears left to cry. Like hyenas on the savannah, the older students would be able to smell his weak and battered body as they made their way past him and the other first-year students in the dormitory. This time it was his turn. It was his seventh birthday, but of course nobody at the school new that. He missed his mother’s warm embrace. 1 MARY BLAKE LEANED over the balcony railings just enough to see the boardwalk without being seen by anyone. Her hair was perfect and resembled cotton candy. When Mary moved into the merchant house by the inlet of Smögen’s harbour a long time ago, the view had been blocked by a house belonging to the Persson family – the same house that was later turned into the famous café called Skäret. To make room for the new boardwalk at the end of the fifties, the Persson house was moved further inland and away from the islet on which it was originally built. That morning, Mrs Persson and her daughter had enjoyed their morning coffee on the porch as usual as the steamboats from Gothenburg docked at the quay below. The Blake family had watched it all happen with restrained smiles on their faces as the relocation of Skäret meant the merchant house would finally get the view it deserved. After all, their house was the most beautiful and impressive building along the boardwalk. Mrs Persson and her daughter were both dead now, but apparently one of Mrs Persson’s grandchildren lived in Gothenburg. Mary waved at Hugo as he stood on the floating dock below, helping today’s first group of tourists off his boat. Just like his father and his father’s father, and just like her husband and her husband’s father – the famous Herring King of Smögen – Hugo was an entrepreneur. A smile played on her lips. Nowadays, Hugo was the only one who could make her face light up. Although Hugo was ambitious, inventive and very popular among the ladies, he was still just a pup. A pup who knew how to make money off his active lifestyle and who ran a business doing what he loved most – manoeuvring superfast RIB boats between the islets outside Smögen. When he approached her earlier that spring to ask for a loan to start up his business, she told him he needed to talk to her husband, James Jr. Hugo took her advice and afterwards he returned to her, defeated. His great-grandfather had turned him down from his hospital bed. That could have been the end of Hugo’s business idea to drive tourists around in speedboats if her husband hadn’t died the night before Midsummer. He passed away peacefully in his sleep and was found dead in bed by his caregivers in the early morning. Mary had been busy planning the funeral and tending to the practical issues following her husband’s death, but just a couple of days after Midsummer, she made sure some of her own savings made it into Hugo’s account. She knew that her husband hadn’t turned Hugo’s idea down because he lacked financial means. No, he had turned it down because he wanted to keep the little control he had left after ending up as a prisoner in his hospital bed. Mary knew very well that she was expected to do whatever her husband told her to do. He had never raised his voice to her. He had never laid a finger on her. But there was no doubt about the fact that his word was law. And she knew it was in her best interest to obey him. But Hugo’s dream was all about here and now – all about this summer. He had lived his whole life cherishing the moment. Maybe that was why he had done surprisingly well in the well-known English boarding school. His whole being radiated love and adventure. Somehow his approach to life seemed to protect him and when he returned home that spring, he was just as full of life and joy as he had been before he left. Mary recognised his eager personality. Hugo was just the same as she had been when she was young. Unfortunately, life in the merchant house had robbed her of all that. It had robbed her of her will to create, take part and keep growing. In the end, her appearance turned out to be all that mattered.